No Need To Look Back
by RexDragosaurus
Summary: Three years after the events of season one, Ellie Miller returns to Broadchurch for the afternoon, and is surprised to bump into Alec Hardy shortly after arrival. Will they succeed in reconnecting? Do they even want to? Oneshot. Not romantic. Rated T for swearing. Contains implied spoilers for episodes one through eight.


**A/N: **I've been suffering from Broadchurch withdrawal lately, so I wrote this oneshot in the hopes of fighting it. Platonically speaking, I ship the frelling ostrich dren-pile out of Hardy and Miller (whom I refer to as "Ellie" in this mostly just because it's from her point of view), and I thought they deserved their own little epilogue. Hope you like it.

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**No Need To Look Back**

It wasn't raining hard, but the weather was still miserable enough that Ellie was beginning to regret her decision to go out on foot for a bit. But then again, maybe coming back to Broadchurch had been a bad idea altogether.

Still, it wasn't as though her return was meant to be permanent. It had been three years since the murder case and everything it had brought in its wake—and while time could by no means heal her or anyone else completely, the wound had at least begun to smart a bit less, a small and forlorn desire to see her old home again replacing the worst of the sting. So when her parents had offered to have Tom and Fred over for the weekend and allow her to take some time out, she had, after some initial misgivings, embraced the opportunity to visit Broadchurch just for one short Saturday afternoon.

Having driven out to the edge of the town, left her car in one of the near-empty car parks and set off for a bit of a walk around, Ellie was now thinking seriously about turning around and going straight back the way she'd come. She'd turned her collar up against the drizzle and was holding a battered black umbrella down low over her head; so far no one seemed to have recognised her, but she was by no means alone in the street in spite of the rain, and she knew she'd stick out like a sore thumb in such a place as this. It wasn't that she was afraid of being accosted by an old acquaintance, it was just that she'd rather avoid it if possible.

So it was with a sense of irritation rather than dread that Ellie drew to a halt as she passed by a small park full of sad, dripping trees and someone spoke her name. Slowly, she turned to face the speaker—and it was while she was turning that two realisations hit her one after the other, so late that she had to put the delay down to shock to save being incredibly put out (not for the first time) by her own lack of comprehension. The first was that she _knew _that voice and yet it shouldn't have been there. The second was that he'd said "Miller", not "Ellie". That was an address she'd never expected to hear again, much less _miss_—as she found she did, in a sort of fond yet annoyed manner.

Hardly had she processed this information than Ellie stopped and found herself face to face with her old boss. He hadn't changed at all—still wore that plain suit and tie, still sported the stubble and still fixed her with that grim, almost haggard expression. On second thoughts, he _did _seem a bit worse for wear; his suit was rumpled and his hair rather untidier than she remembered—and it hadn't exactly been immaculate before.

In spite of his formidable appearance, however, Ellie didn't find herself remembering the countless hours of frustration he'd caused her, the many times he'd hurt her feelings more than she liked to show, or those insufferable moments when she'd wanted to just _punch his bloody face in_. None of that came to mind at all, even though she almost wanted it to, as though that would allow her to brush him aside and rack off out of Broadchurch again—this time for good.

No, she remembered only those brief instances when he'd seemed like he'd stopped trying to push her away: when he'd made her tea; when he'd come to dinner; when he'd talked to her on the beach about his first time visiting Broadchurch; when he'd actually told her she'd done well—and that terrifying moment when he'd used her first name, alerting her to the fact that something was wrong, and had tried to support her after delivering news she knew he'd wanted desperately to keep back. These memories and others flooded her mind in a short but powerful rush, bringing pain and warmth with them in fairly equal proportions. She didn't smile, but neither did she walk away. She just waited—and so did he.

They stood there awkwardly like that for neither of them knew how long, staring at each other, fighting off uncertainty and wondering what would happen next. Ellie couldn't think what Hardy was doing back in Broadchurch—but then again, she supposed he probably felt the same about her right now. It dawned on her then that it had been a while since he'd spoken. She supposed she ought to give him some sort of reply.

A perfunctory greeting began to form itself on the tip of her tongue before she realised with a stab of confusion that she had no idea how to address him now. He wasn't her boss any more, but "Alec" seemed wrong after all this time, and "Mr Hardy" was just...unthinkable. She decided to skip the greeting for the time being. "You look terrible," she informed him bluntly. "Did you know the others used to call you Shitface?"

Hardy seemed—understandably—taken aback. Just seeing his composure break (if only for a second) made the otherwise regrettable opening statement worth it, thought Ellie. "Shitface?" Hardy echoed after a moment. "Did they?"

She nodded. "I can tell you that now, seeing as neither of us are in CID any more. At least—I assume you haven't...?"

"No." he said. "I haven't."

"Ah." she said. "I just wondered because, well, I didn't expect to see you here...sir." Sir. It wasn't the right thing to say, and yet somehow it _was _the right thing to say—like Miller wasn't the right thing to hear and yet somehow _was _the right thing to hear.

Hardy took her somewhat irregular address in his stride, so she assumed he agreed with her. "I just thought I'd...come back, see how things are."

Ellie _almost _smiled as she said, "Don't tell me you grew fond of the place while you were here." Receiving no reply, she added, "It's the same with me, actually. I had the weekend off so I decided to drop by for old times' sake."

"Funny coincidence," he said, not sounding particularly amused.

"Yes, I...suppose it is."

An uncomfortable pause followed, and Hardy nodded to a nearby bench. "D'you want to sit down?"

Ellie looked at the bench. "It's wet." Hardy just shrugged, so she shrugged back and they sat, looking out at the disconsolate trees and the gloomy buildings, listening to the erratic rhythm of the raindrops hitting the ground, the leaves and the rooftops around them. "So..." Ellie asked at length, "any particular reason you wanted to talk?"

Hardy didn't look at her when he spoke. "Not really."

"Okay." Another pause. "I don't mind, I mean, I wasn't complaining or—"

"Yeah." And there it was again, his old terseness coming to the fore. His gaze was still averted, drifting idly along the distant road. Ellie wanted to be cross with him, but...

She sighed quietly, leaning back and glancing up at the sky. A raindrop hit her cheek, but she didn't mind. She shifted her umbrella back into place, hesitated, then asked, "How's the dicky heart?"

He shrugged. "Still alive, aren't I?"

"But you haven't had—"

"No."

"Right."

The pauses were beginning to feel more comfortable now—or maybe it was just Ellie's imagination, she didn't know. But then she didn't care, either. There was nothing she needed to be doing at present, and sitting in silence with grumpy old Alec Hardy was no worse than, say, strolling in silence and trying to avoid everyone.

Just as she thought they were going to remain like that until one of them stood up and left, Hardy asked, "So what are you doing now?"

"Oh, er," said Ellie, taken by surprise, "not much, just—looking after the kids and, you know, trying to find another job that fits."

"You're still unemployed?"

"No, I've—tried things here and there, I'm working at a library at the moment, actually, but...I don't know if it's what I want to do in the long term."

"Hm." He turned at last to look at her, and she saw his brow furrow. "You crying, Miller?"

"What? Oh." She surprised herself by laughing a bit as she wiped her face with her sleeve. "No, it's just the rain."

"Ah." He looked away again.

"And...you, sir?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you retired for good, or...?"

"Oh. Well, sort of."

"Sort of?"

He ducked his head. "Been working on the Sandbrook case. By myself."

She tried to prevent a trace of pity from entering her voice, for she knew he'd hate it. "Oh, sir..." She didn't think she'd succeeded, though.

Sure enough, he turned sharply back towards her. "It's all I've got left, Miller." he said, determination—desperation?—clear in every line of his face. "If I can't close this case, then...I don't have anything to live for."

His words chilled her, yet she thought she understood. She'd read Olly's article three years ago, of course, and though her nephew had never told her the name of the DS who'd lost the evidence, she did have her suspicions, not that they mattered. After what had happened to her in Broadchurch, she had no wish to go poking into Hardy's troubled past.

So she just nodded. "Fair enough." Yet another pause. Hardy resumed his cursory observance of the park, and Ellie did the same. The rain seemed like it was letting up a bit now. Ellie shifted in her seat, thought a moment, then said, "It's not _all _you have left, you know, sir."

And now he was facing her again. She wondered why he kept bothering to look away. "What?" he asked.

She knew what she wanted to say, but she couldn't seem to get the words out, so instead she answered him with a question of her own. "Want to come for dinner again?"

He stared at her. She stared back, an expectant look on her face to mask the misgivings that were already beginning to form in her mind.

Then he reassured (and shocked) her by giving a small smile. It occurred to her that she'd only really seen him smile once before, and that had been when— Well, there was no need to look back, but it was appropriate all the same.

"Yeah." said Hardy. "Okay. Thanks, Miller."

And now she smiled back.


End file.
